ISSN#1537-2812 Drunken Boat is an online literary journal of the arts.

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Your eye claws tear my hand because
I reach to touch what you are seeing—

from the skin my fluid senses
in your hands a way of reading.
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At the core of moisture, bell-weather
blinking in the eye, the only lead for now,

sky-offering to your steps, though the walls
of your house can bury you very quickly—

and though the space is limited,
within the night is not.
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And in time after time off the scale—
obliquely—after all in spite of hazards

that might waste the opportunity,
obliviously as that—as I think back,

from here a whisper lightly handed
off, off-handed, the accompanist,

familiar in this way, slips down
your stairs to climb up to your room.

To think that this will be whatever
in attendance, sequencing inevitably